From the world of Carolina Bad Boys and Retribution MC, this bad boy biker likes to be in control, and heâs ready to take what he wants.

Coletrane:

Her name is Sinclair Chatham. Sin. Thatâs exactly what she isâwalking, talking, in the flesh sin. Sheâs haughty, privileged, so goddamn starlet sexy, with an ass I want to grab and spank raw.

I want her to give herself over to me. I want her to lose that polished princess veneer. I want to strip away the money, the manicures, the maids, the immaculate faÃ§ade.

I need her to be mine. But Iâm a grunt. A biker. A tattoo artist. Iâm blue collar all the way, and her family will probably shit bricks if they ever meet me.

Not to mention, Iâm running from a bad past thatâs about to catch up with me.

Sinclair:

I would never go for Cole in a million years. Heâs gruff, rough around the edgesâand covered in ink. Heâs unapologetic, demanding, and sometimes scary as hell. He tells me what he wants, how he wants it, and why heâs going to ruin me for all other men.

Coletrane destroys my vanity, gets inside my head while he gets into my bed, and I canât say no to him. Heâs not what I expectedâtender at times, taking no prisoners at others. He breaks me down, builds me up.

He is not my type.

They say opposites attract, and theyâre right. I just didnât expect him to turn my cushy life upside down and inside out. But itâs too late, and someoneâs going to get hurt.

I got out and loped around to Sinâs side. I liked the way she waited for me to open the door and help her outâshe was a woman who knew she was quality.

With a flash of those long bare legs, she slid up against me. Her body felt incredible, curves in all the right places the perfect counterpoint to the hard muscles of mine.

Brushing the hair back from her temples, my fingers lingered at her neck where her pulse drummed against my skin. I leaned down and tasted her lips, quickly delving into her mouth before retreating with a smile.

I pulled her away from the car and guided her up the steps that created an open breezeway in the apartment building. My place was at the top and overlooked a tennis court.

âYou play?â she asked.

I unlocked my door and ushered her inside. âHardly.â

Flicking the light switch, the tidy, tiny living room shifted into brightness, and just then a calico fur ball darted into the kitchen with screeching yeowl.

âWhat was that?â Sin pointed after the fleeing feline.

âI dunno. I think itâs a cat.â I rubbed a hand over my chin. âCould be a cross between a porcupine and an overgrown chipmunk? I call it Pincushion.â

As she giggled I waved vaguely around the four-room place. âSo this is it. Itâs not luxurious butââ

âItâs so clean.â She left my side to walk around the living room, her fingers occasionally coasting along the coffee table and the sound system set-up.

âRight? And I donât even have a maid.â Lounging against the doorway opposite her, I winked.

âShut up.â She rolled her eyes.

In just five long steps, I caged her against the wall. âOh, I donât think you want me to do that.â

I twisted her head up and crashed my lips to hers. My tongue lunged into her mouth, stroking hers. Brutal. Hard. Wet. I swallowed the whimper that escaped the back of her throat, and her hands flew to my ass to pull me all the way against her.

With a grunt, I tore my lips free, licking them to taste more of her.

A sneer of lust crossed my face, and my voice came out in a low deep rumble. âThe things Iâm gonna say to you tonight will make you so hot youâll be begging me to fuck you harder, faster.â I nipped and licked the neck she arched for my tongue and teeth.

âCole!â she gasped.

âMake your body ache for my cock.â I pressed my hips against her just once so sheâd know what she was getting.

Then I stepped back, watching her as she panted. Her hair disheveled. Her tits jutting. Her eyes heavy.

âBut we gotta talk about how this is gonna go down first,â I said.

âWe do?â She slowly regained her composure. âThis about the control thing again?â

âMm hmm.â I dropped onto the couch and patted the cushion beside me.

She approached slowly and perched next to me.

âI want to push you to the limit. Find out what your limits are.â

âIs this about the power struggle,â she asked. âDoes that get you off?â

âNot as much as you completely giving yourself over to me would.â

She hissed a sharp breath, her back arching unintentionally.

Damn. She might not like giving away control, but her body sure seemed interested in the idea.

Her voice a little shaky, she asked, âSo is this a BDSM thing?â

I laughed, a long low sound. âWhy, precious? Are you into the scene?â

âOf course not,â she snapped.

âNothing wrong with that, you know?â

She narrowed her eyes on me. âI didnât mean to imply that there was. Justââ

âYouâre a good girl?â

Biting her lip, she gave a hesitant nod. She had no idea how hot she made me, just that little shot of insecurity in an otherwise totally impressive babe.

I scooted closer, dragging my fingers up her bare arm to the soft skin of her shoulder. âWanna be my good girl?â

Again with the hesitant nod.

Jesus.

I withdrew my hand before I could be tempted to run it all over her smokinâ body. âItâs not a BDSM thing with me. I donât call it that. Donât call it anything. Itâs just how I like to fuck.â

She made a small noise, and her thighs parted just a little bit. She was so ripe for this, right for me.

My voice lowered. âI donât want to be your Dom or your Master or your Daddy. Itâs not about pain. Itâs about letting go. Finding out what gives you pleasure, and sometimes thatâs not always orthodox.â

Her breath stuttered in an out as she shifted her gaze to me, her eyes sweeping over my face, my shoulders, my chest. âDo you ever just have sex?â

âVanilla sex?â

Sin nodded, her cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink.

âI like all kinds of sex. Kinky. Straightforward fucking. Fast. Hard.â I turned toward her and kissed her lips between each subsequent word. âLong.â Kiss. âSlow.â A lingering touch of my tongue on hers. â . . . anal.â

Her body snapped against mine, and her lips opened, her tongue rolling into my mouth.

After the soul scorching kiss that set my balls on edge, I eased my lips to her ear. âBut if Iâm really into a womanâand Iâm really into youââgoddamn understatementââI need to know itâs okay if I fuck you the way I want to.â

I leaned back. âSo what do you say, Sin. Are you in?â

âIâm in.â

Michelle's 5 Star Review

Unfortunately Coletrain is the last book in the Bad Boys of Retribution MC. This has been a awesome series and Coletrain does not disappoint. Coletrain is a ladies man, he isn't interested in any one woman until he meets her, Sinclair Chatham. At first sight he believes she is out of his league. She's rich, refined, classy and very beautiful. Sinclair is immediately attracted to Coletrain. From his size, tattoos and he's extremely sexy. Not only is he a hot biker but he's also a tattoo artist. Coletrain and Sin's chemistry is off the charts hot! Their sexual attraction will make you blush. This book is more than hot it's on fire!! As always the writing is wonderful and the story keeps you entertained. Another great book for Rie! Absolutely loved it!

NEXT IN SERIES:

CHROME, WITH A HEART FORGED IN STEELE. Book #4.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Coming summer 2015.

Author Bio:

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Donât Tell seriesâa breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writerâcausing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.

BO (Bad Boys of Retribution MC #3)

BLURB:

Bo:

Iâm a lover, not a fighter. Yeah, right. Talk about bullshit. Iâve been fighting all my life, and I know zip about love. Frankly, I donât want to. More than bullets whizzing past my head or the very real possibility of ending up dead, love scares the shit out of me. Iâm used to guns and killing, blood and dust.

Lust.

Thatâs what I feel for this woman, my goddamn shrink, Veronica. Doctor Hartley digs inside my head. She asks me questions, which I never answer. Iâd much rather take the smart, sexy Doc to bed, but I canât because of our clinical relationship.

My last Force Recon mission destroyed any semblance of humanity I had left. Those little triggers go off all the time now. When Iâm asleep. When Iâm awake. When the memories are raw. I bolt up, at knife point again, but thereâs no enemy now.

Just Veronica and me.

Veronica:

Veronica. Doctor Hartley. I told Bo to call me Ronnie like everyone else, but he refuses. He shows up like he has a cattle prod shoved up his ass and sits through the allotted hour for his counseling session impervious to every approach. Heâs powerful, forceful, explosive. He doesnât scare me.

My marine doesnât speak, but his sharp gaze pierces me all the same. He watches me with all the greed of a hunger never sated, a need never fulfilled. A desire never explored. He stows his secrets safely away, but Iâm patient. Iâll get to him if he doesnât get to me first.

And when I have him? Iâll want him forever. I know this. But I canât. His past might be complicated, but mine is a minefield, one that will blow up in our faces before all is said and done.

A few days after Iâd gone crazy-Vet with Doc Veronica, with March nearing an end and April in sight, I expected a new client. This one had signed up online for a workout session. I was checking my equipment out in the yard when I heard the doorbell through the open deck doors. I walked inside, thinking Iâd need to find some rental space before summer fully arrived. It was fine for trained soldiers to bust ass outside in one hundred plus degree heat but I probably didnât want my clients keel over from heat stroke. âComing,â I called out. Kicking my extra pair of cross trainers away from the door I opened it and . . . âYou?ââMe. In the flesh.â Veronica stood on my front stoop, not dressed in one of her Doc Hottie suits. âYouâre my twelve oâ clock?â Transparent shock filtered across my face. She nodded and her long ponytail in rich claret red bounced, the ends curling to the middle of her back.

âYouâre not Penny Richmond.ââYes, I am. For a couple hours at least.â She pointed at her ponytail. âBesides, I have the whole copper thing going on.ââWhy?â âIsnât that obvious?â Cocking her hip, she drew my gaze to her body scantily covered in workout gear. Well, I could see that. In fact my eyes were bugging out of my head even while I tried to make my tongue form words.âIâm working.â I glared down at her all the while inventorying her outfit. Stretchy black yoga shorts led to a tight bright yellow Lycra tank molded to her upper body. The dark blue straps of a workout bra peeped out on her shoulders. Her breasts restrained, they still looked round and full, and her skin gleamed. I couldnât wait for the back view. Fucking criminal to look like that underneath her suits.âI know. Thatâs why I made an appointment, and I tend to keep them.â Her saccharine smile held the hint of a killer edge. A smile I wanted to kiss off her lips with my tongue in her mouth. Sweeping past me she asked, âWhere do you want me?âTrick question. In my bed? On the couch? Hell, right now the floor would work pretty damn good. Iâm not fussy. I hung back, closing the door, taking my time to enjoy that rearview and, oh man, what a sight it was. Her waist narrowed, her hips flared and that ass. Jesus. She had to be wearing a thong because there was no hint of a pantyline beneath the black fabric cupping her full cheeks just so and just right. I rubbed a hand through my hair and quickly knocked my gaze up when she turned toward me. âUh, hi?âSuddenly I was distinctly aware I was as negligently clothed as her. Loose nylon shorts held low on my hips by the string tied at my waist. No shirt. Compression shorts beneath, and at the at moment they were failing at concealing the length and general girth of my cock, because that shit was getting interested in these goings on.I didnât know if Veronica had superhuman willpower, if she was just so goddamn good at being professional, or if I really didnât affect her at all, but she hardly dipped her gaze to my chest before meeting my stare. âHello, Bo.â Her eyes twinkled, rum cask-colored today. She looked totally different, and then I finally placed why. I pointed at her, still stupefied. âYou have ink.âMy brain finally caught up. When her back had been turned colorful vines and flowers snaked across the top of her back and shoulder blades, the edge of something tattooed with a gritty metallic sheen peeking just above her sports top. âIs that an entire backpiece?â I asked. Talk about unexpected, and even hotter because of that. âYou have tats too. Is there a problem?âThe only problem was her appreciative glance at my ink. My skin was on fire as her gaze touched the tattoos. I could only imagine her fingers walking along my flesh, tracing the solid marks of ink: a highly stylized version of the star and stripes with the words Semper Fidelis covered the skin on the side of my neck. An explosive array of detailed-down-to-the barrel service revolvers spread across my chest, each with a helmet emblazoned on the grip. One for every teammate Iâd lost. Fallen. Never forgotten. The words wrapped underneath. I swallowed harshly. âNo. No problem at all. Shall we?âHolding out my hand, I beckoned Veronica through my house, leading her out back. âYou live alone?âMy eyebrows shot up. âIsnât that obvious? You know, me and people not being on the best of terms.ââHow could I forget?â For a moment she sounded rueful, but then she swished ahead of me and stepped outside. We ended up side by side on the deck on a pair of yoga mats. âWeâll start with some warm-up.â I guided Veronica through some stretches she proved more than capable of handling. We finished with our legs wide open, leaning down to place our foreheads on the mat then reaching for our ankles. She remained in that position long after I sat up, and when I tapped her shoulder she curled up, grinning. Her face shined as she arched her back and rolled her neck. âWow. Youâre flexible for a big guy.âSo was she, and I could think of a million ways to limber her up even more in my bed. âWhatâs your fitness level, Doc?ââOh, I think I can keep up.âNot if I have my way with her.Once down on the ground, I set Veronica to work and went at it right beside her. The obstacle course I switched up everyday had us crawling under crosshatched wires, hurtling over sawhorses and dive rolling beneath heavy swinging logs.

I even made her dig her own trench. Fuck the lawn. I gave her a two-minute break after she lined the top of the culvert with sandbags. Damn right I drilled her. She wasnât a gym bunny, and I approved. No slab-board abs or ropey lean thighs, she looked soft and warm and curvy in all the right places, just how I liked a woman. That didnât mean she didnât know how to get down and dirty and dig in, which made me respect her even more.An hour later, we panted next to each other, guzzling water and mopping up sweat with our towels. âYouâre really good at this, Bo. I think you could make a killing.â Then she winced, because she said the k word.âDonât worry about it.â I gripped the ends of her towel, drawing her nearer so the heat of her body collided with mine. âI donât think about killing every hour of every day.â

Bo is third in the Bad Boys of Retribution MC, you don't have to read the others first but it would be helpful to know all the characters.

Bo is a former Marine who has had a hard time adjusting to civilian life and getting through things that happened to him while he was overseas. Hunter a MC buddy and former Marine himself talks him into seeing his Doctor to get the help that he needs.

Dr. Veronica Hartley has lived a hard life and is the queen of keeping secrets. Bo isn't interested in her help, he's only interested in getting in her pants. Once they both let their guards down, they find that maybe they can lean on someone else to help them fight their demons.

I loved this book as well as this whole series. The writing as usual was great and the story flowed really well. I think the thing that I loved most was Veronica's character, I know the book is mainly about Bo, but it was so refreshing to have a strong leading female character. A independent woman who doesn't take crap off anyone and can take care of herself. And these two together are explosive! Great job Rie!!

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writerâcausing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.

BLURB:

Bonafide pussy magnet. Kinky Kaid I wanna get laid. Yeah, Iâve been called that shit and more. It comes with the territory. See, Iâm a male stripper. I shake my moneymaker so I can pay the bills and take care of my people.

Iâm also a hardcore, hell-bent biker dude, the newest prospect at Retribution MC. Probie 2.0, and they can never find out how I earn my living. Women love me. They toss their panties at me. They push hundred dollar bills into my G-string. Iâm down and dirty and the honeys dig it. All but one.

Thereâs this girl, Sadie. Sheâs beautiful and funny and kickass with some major ink. Iâd never make a move on her because sheâs my best friend.

Sadie:

Best friend? Bullshit. Kinkaid treats me like Iâm his kid sister. Iâm the hell-raiser, the tomboy dirt biker, his late night call but never like that. He thinks heâs safe from me. Iâm going to prove him wrong. Iâll make him see me as a woman one way or the other.

When I find out what Kinkaidâs been hiding thereâs hell to pay. Except then he gives me a lap dance. A hot, wicked, panty-melting lap dance. A lap dance that unleashes our intense desire, fresh jealousy, distrust and anger.

Everything changes after that, and not for the better. I love him. I hate him. I canât lose him. Sometimes I canât stand him. Heâs hot as sin on a sultry lowcountry night, and heâs still my best friend.

**Received arc for honest review***If you like Magic Mike, you will love Kinky Kain! This book was wonderful! This is only the second book Iâve read by this author and it has me thinking, where have I been? I loved it.Kinkaid Ryder is a prospect in Retribution MC. To care for his elderly grandfather who raised him, he gets a job as a dancer/stripper at The GQ Club. Trying to keep his dancing life separate, he doesnât tell anyone that he is stripping for money. Until one night his best friend of ten years Sadie is in the club at a bachelorette party. When the bride to be pays for Kinkaid to give Sadie a lap dance true feeling start to come out. Can two people who have been friends for so long realize that maybe their feelings are deeper than friendship?If you are looking for a badass MC book, this isnât it. This is a friends to lovers HEA book and it is great! The writing was wonderful and the author hit every emotion. It has humor, love, heartbreak and most of all it is very freaking sexy. Congratulations Rie Warren on a fantastic book!

EXCERPT:

I accepted a stiff drink from Rebel-Mae, the funky punk bartender with the glow-in-the-dark pink fauxhawk, forgetting for a moment I was the Grade-A beef in the joint. No sooner than I took my first sip of Jack, women surrounded me, pressing against me, panting all over me.

I couldnât very well leave the clients out in the cold. I slung an arm around one of them and smiled at another, raising my eyes in a help-me expression across the bar toward Rebel-Mae when something familiar snagged my gaze.

I did a double take. Then a triple look.

Then my legs almost collapsed out from under me. My heart went sluggish. My body felt cold. My gaze stopped on none other than Sadie my-motherfucking-best-friend Grace.

Holeeey Shit.

She stared at me with wide unblinking eyes and pink spots on her cheeks.

Everything got real hot, real fast. I hadnât been this nekkie in front of my best girl since . . . oh yeah . . . never. I was acutely aware of that fact as Sadieâs eyes coasted painstakingly from the top of my head all the way to my toes like she was taking inventory.

My heart returned to its normal rhythm then it decided to go one better and jackhammer in my chest. I returned Sadieâs stare with the same scrutiny. No wonder I hadnât picked her out in the crowd. Sitting about five feet away from me, she looked like a complete stranger . . . a very sexy stranger.

Sadie usually wore paint-splattered coveralls, torn jeans, and baggy T-shirts with her thick hair braided down her back. Tonight her hair hung loose and straight as a sunbeam. It reminded me of the beach at Isle of Palmsâa mixture of white gold and sun-spun brown, little sparks of red filtered in. Soft and silky and silty.

It wasnât just the hair that blew me away. Sadie had curves all of a sudden. Where the hell had those come from? The killer dress was the same turquoise blue as her eyes and made her irises stand out all the more. The dress? Oh man, it was silk or something, cinched at her waist with a straight skirt that didnât go low enough on her thighs as far as I was concerned. And the top? That was no better. The neckline needed to be a lot higher, turtleneck high, come to think of it. As it was, the damn thing hugged what looked like perfectly round tits, a suspicion supported by the fact a tight V of tawny cleavage was very, very visible.

Finallyâdear Lordâher long willowy legs ended in inappropriately strappy, high heels. Not her standard, sexy Fox Racing Moto-X boots. This was not the regulation Sadie uniform I was used to. Her outfit definitely affected the blood pounding through my bodyâloudly in my ears and coursing lower at an alarming rate to my cock. My cock that was barely covered in black mesh. Yeah, it was about to bulk up.

Sadie only glanced away from me when one of her group tapped her on the shoulder. The chicks giggled and whispered, and my worst fears were soon confirmed. It was a bachelorette party. Yep, one of the babes wore a veil and a white sash that read: Bridezilla! Tall glasses littered the table, and out of each one popped every bride-to-beâs favorite party favor: a plastic penis straw. The women were well lubricated, well on their way to Happyville with a trip to Hangover City in the morning.

Sadie didnât look happy. Not one bit.

Iâd thought her discovering my dirty little secret was the worst of it.

I was proven wrong in the next instant when Sadieâs crazed posse pointed at me, chanting, âLAP DANCE! LAP DANCE! LAP DANCE!â

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

But no. It got a million times worse when Bride-fucking-zilla (that shit was no joke apparently) got up, drunk-swayed over to me, and pushed me at Sadie.

âWith her!â Bridezilla shouted as I stumbled in Sadieâs direction.

âWHAT?â I caught myself moments before I face-dived between Sadieâs legs, rocked backward, and then quickly moved clear to the other side of the table. Where my ass was immediately pinched.

Bridezilla looked expectantly at me then Sadie.

âWhat?â Sadie echoed my question.

âWell, you two canât keep your eyes off each other,â said the blonde wifey-to-be. âMight as well get your hands in on the action too.â

This can't be happening . . .

Jesus fucking Christ.

Yahoo! said my cock.

That thing needed a choke on it.

Older brother/best friend? I felt none of those things all of a sudden, especially when Sadie looked in my direction and slowly wet her lips.

Maybe shock and horror wasnât quite what she was feeling after all.

I was definitely hot-faced, and no way did I want to give my best friendâmy hottie hot best friendâa freakinâ lap dance. Unfortunately the rules were the rules.

NEXT IN SERIES:

CHROME, WITH A HEART FORGED IN STEELE. Book #4.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Coming summer 2015.

Author Bio:

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Donât Tell seriesâa breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writerâcausing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.